SCOTUS: A Powerplay Novel Read online

  SCOTUS

  A Powerplay Novel

  Selena Laurence

  Golden Age Press

  Copyright 2017 © Selena Laurence

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN 978-0-9977188-8-1

  Editing by LindaEdits.com

  Cover by Sweet and Spicy Designs

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, sorted in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This contemporary romance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. This ebook is licensed for your personal use only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  For permission to use any portion of this material, please contact the author at: [email protected]

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  About SCOTUS

  Praise For Selena Laurence

  Books by Selena Laurence

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from The Kingmaker

  Chapter 1

  All About The Executioner

  About the Author

  About SCOTUS

  A second chance romance set in the political intrigue of Washington D.C.

  Teague Roberts is a Supreme Court nominee on the fast track to the nation's highest legal job. As the best friend of the President's husband, he's a favored son in Washington, and a man used to getting what he wants. But Teague is also a man with a secret, and it could explode his nomination, as well as the image he's spent so many years cultivating.

  Deanna Forbes is Washington's newest hot investigative reporter, and Teague's ex-fiance. Her history with the only man she's ever loved is complicated and filled with remorse. When she shows up in D.C., assigned to report on his nomination, Teague knows things won't end well, because Deanna could tear down his house of cards.

  As the confirmation hearings heat up, and sparks fly between the former lovers, they must both decide what matters more--the job or the person, ambition or heart. And as a delicate dance toward reconciliation begins, more secrets will be revealed, old betrayals will be unearthed, and two fractured souls will have one last chance at forever. In the city where politics burns bright, will Teague and Deanna rekindle their love, or flame out once and for all?

  Praise For Selena Laurence

  "Laurence’s tightly woven story is a superb mix of sexual and political tension that’s certain to please fans of both." — Publisher's Weekly review of THE KINGMAKER

  "Delicious and Intriguing." — Lauren Blakely, NYT Bestselling Author on A LUSH BETRAYAL

  “Selena Laurence has the ability to bring to life complex characters you instantly start rooting for from page one. Passion, humor, and a sexy hero all make for one read you don’t want to miss.” — Ilsa Madden-Mills, Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author on PLAYING WITH FIRE

  "I totally fell in love with Nico and Tess’s story." — Cindi Madden, USA TODAY Bestselling Author on THE HEIR

  "The plot is deftly written and readers will be totally engrossed in the story" — InD'Tale Magazine review of A LUSH BETRAYAL

  “Selena Laurence delivers on the promise of heat, and love with her sexy romances!” — Nana Malone, USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Books by Selena Laurence

  The Lush Rockstar Series

  A Lush Betrayal (Lush 1)

  Loving a Lush (Lush 2)

  Lowdown and Lush (Lush 3)

  A Lush Reunion (Lush 4)

  The Rhapsody Rockstar Series

  A Lush Rhapsody (A Rhapsody Novel)

  Racing to Rhapsody (A Rhapsody Novel)

  Dreaming of Rhapsody (A Rhapsody Novella)

  Addicted to Rhapsody (A Rhapsody Novel) coming July 2017

  The Powerplay Series

  Prince of the Press (A Powerplay Novella)

  The Kingmaker (A Powerplay Novel)

  POTUS (A Powerplay Novel)

  SCOTUS (A Powerplay Novel)

  The California Cowboys Series

  Cade’s Loss (California Cowboys One)

  Vaughn’s Pride (California Cowboys Two) coming June 2017

  Ty’s Heart (California Cowboys Three) coming September 2017

  Standalones

  The Heir: A Standalone Greek Billionaire Romance

  Pax (Lush the Next Gen)

  The Czar: A Standalone Hockey Billionaire Romance

  The Hiding From Love Series

  Falling for Trouble

  Secrets in a Kiss

  Concealed by a Kiss

  Playing with Fire

  “In recognizing the humanity of our fellow beings, we pay ourselves the highest tribute.”

  —Thurgood Marshall,

  First African American Supreme Court Justice.

  Chapter 1

  Teague Roberts stared down the barrel of a gun. A semiautomatic 9, if he was correct. Typical street weapon used by gangbangers and drug dealers in every metro area in the country. The kind of shit his brother used to keep under the bed in their shared bedroom. He mentally shook his head that he stored knowledge like that in his oversized brain. He’d have thought after all these years he would have left the street smarts behind, but he hadn’t. And maybe in the long run, that was a good thing, because he was about to kick these jokers’ asses.

  “Hey, man,” he said casually. “It’s cool. You can have whatever you want.”

  The guy with the gun, who was ten kinds of ’roided-up wannabe gangbanger, tipped his chin at his buddy, the scrawny sidekick who looked to have a crack habit.

  “Check his pockets. Get his ring.”

  Teague’s eyes roamed around the deserted DC street. It was that odd time between when the bars closed and the offices opened, and this small side street around the corner from his brownstone was desolate.

  Scrawny came over and moved to slide his hand into Teague’s front slacks pocket.

  “You wanna keep that hand, brother?” Teague said, his arms still raised while the big guy had the gun pointed at him.

  Scrawny pulled up a corner of his lip. “You sure do talk a lot for somebody with a gun in his face,” he answered.

  Teague smirked but didn’t say anything else as Scrawny fished around in his pockets, eventually extracting his wallet, car keys, cell phone, and two hundred dollars in cash before making Teague remove his gold insignia ring from Yale law school.

  And that was when he got his chance. Scrawny leaned forward to hand ’Roid Rage the cash, and the gun shifted. That barrel tipped up, and Teague moved like lightning, slamming his knee into
’Roid’s arm so that the gun flew into the air, landing with a metallic clatter on the pavement. Scrawny yelped in surprise, and ’Roid jerked his arm back, a reflex. Meanwhile, Teague balled up one big fist and let it fly right at ’Roid’s cheek.

  That cheek split like a cantaloupe when Teague’s fist made contact, blood squirting and splashing on his new two-hundred-dollar tie. Dammit. He’d really liked that tie. ’Roid Rage doubled over with a heavy “Fuck,” before he went down partway onto one knee.

  In the blink of an eye, Teague turned to Scrawny, who was looking increasingly nervous.

  Teague slammed the smaller man up against the brick façade of the building they were next to. Pressing his forearm to the guy’s windpipe, he snarled, “I told you not to touch me, asshole.”

  Scrawny gasped and writhed, his eyes bulging out of his face as Teague pressed harder.

  He sensed the big one moving behind him and knew he’d better get back to it.

  “Run, and you’ll miss when I beat the living hell out of your buddy and the cops take him downtown.”

  He pulled his arm off the guy’s throat and spun in one smooth motion, slamming the back of his closed fist into the bigger one’s neck. The force was enough to break the man’s windpipe, and he collapsed to the concrete, gasping and coughing.

  Scrawny took his chance and ran as if the hounds of hell were after him, leaving Teague’s cash and belongings scattered on the sidewalk.

  Teague looked down at the man coughing up frothy blood on the sidewalk and sighed.

  “Why’d you have to decide to do this tonight?” he muttered more to himself than his assailant. He leaned down, snatched his cell phone off the sidewalk, and dialed 911.

  “Yes, I need to report an assault and robbery in the three hundred block of Crescent Place Northwest. A man’s been injured and needs immediate medical attention.”

  Teague sat in the interrogation room at the Washington DC police station, his bloodied tie still hanging from his neck and his Yale ring back on his finger. He took a deep breath, picked up his cell phone, and dialed his friend Kamal.

  “This had better be good,” Kamal rasped as he answered. “It’s five a.m. and the president promised me we could have breakfast in bed this morning.”

  Kamal was married to President Jessica Hampton, making him the First Gentleman of the United States, and while Teague wasn’t sure what the protocol was on newlywed status, it seemed as though the president and First Gentleman never got tired of having breakfast in bed—or whatever the hell it was they did in the presidential bedroom.

  “Unfortunately, there’s a small crisis I wanted to alert the president to before she hears the morning news.”

  Kamal sighed. “Fine,” he answered. “Shall I put you on speaker?”

  “That’ll work.”

  “Good morning, Teague,” the president said cheerfully. The woman was the most gracious and unflappable person he’d ever met.

  “Madam President, I wanted to alert you to something that happened earlier this morning.”

  “Yes?”

  “I was attacked a block from my house by a couple of armed robbers.”

  “Oh! Are you okay?” Jessica asked at the same time Kamal growled, “What the hell?”

  “I’m fine, but in the course of fighting them off, I did some significant damage to one of them. The other one got away.”

  “How significant?” Kamal asked.

  Kamal and Teague were not only friends but also colleagues in a secret Washington club called the Powerplay club. And members of the Powerplay club worked out by boxing at Spar gym. Kamal knew exactly how competent Teague was with his fists, and why he could be a lethal weapon if he so chose.

  “I fractured his windpipe, so he’ll live, but he’s in the hospital.”

  The president sighed. “Well, this is going to put a damper on today’s plans.”

  Teague cringed. He’d been waiting most of his adult life for today, and now it was ruined. All because some goddamned junkies thought they should get a few hundred dollars and a gold ring.

  Fuck.

  He shook his head slowly. “I understand if you need to move to your backup nominee, Madam President,” he said.

  There was no moment of hesitation on Jessica’s part, however. “Not at all, Teague. I’m simply wondering if we need to move the press conference until we have time to get the press secretary up to speed?”

  “That might be a good idea,” he answered. “Also, the police aren’t done questioning me, so I probably won’t be out of here and on the way home for another hour.”

  “Okay then, give me just a moment.”

  He heard the sound of the president speaking to someone else, and then she returned.

  “Two o’clock today instead,” she announced.

  “I can’t thank you enough, ma’am,” Teague said, a rush of relief coursing through him.

  “Do you need anything from me before then?” Kamal asked.

  “No, but I’d love a cup of coffee before the press conference.”

  Kamal chuckled. “Good. I’ll have the tea ready at one fifteen.”

  “Coffee,” Teague demanded.

  “See you for tea. Ta-ta,” Kamal sang in a falsetto voice before disconnecting the call.

  Teague grinned before he turned the phone off and waited for the police to send him home.

  “Deanna,” Brice Carter, the news editor at the Washington Sentinel, called out.

  Deanna stopped and swiveled on her heels in the middle of the newspaper building’s lobby.

  “Just got a call from the White House. The conference has been moved to two p.m.”

  Deanna nodded. “Okay, I’m going to grab some coffee and see if I can scare up any staffers on the Hill who might know who the nominee is going to be so I can get preconference research going.”

  Brice nodded, his thick dark hair barely moving an inch when he did. He was a classically attractive man in his forties, but there was something about him that reminded Deanna of a plastic Ken doll, à la Mitt Romney.

  “Sounds good. Phone it in as soon as you’re done. Now that they’ve postponed this by four hours, we’re going to need every minute to get it to press for the morning edition.”

  “Will do,” Deanna called as she turned and continued her march out of the building.

  The press and much of the country had been waiting for today’s announcement for weeks. Supreme Court Justice Erin McKenna had passed away from a stroke nearly two months ago, and her seat sat empty, waiting for President Hampton to nominate a replacement. The opposition party had already declared their intention to fight any nomination she made, and tensions were high. President Hampton had appointed another justice in her previous term in office, and rumors were circulating that two more justices would be retiring before her current term was done in three and a half years. It was uncommon for one president to have the opportunity to appoint four Supremes, and it meant that Jessica Hampton would have more influence on the direction of constitutional interpretation and states’ rights than most presidents.

  But the White House had been exceedingly tight-lipped about who Hampton’s current nominee might be, and the press and congress were fraught with anxiety. They weren’t used to being in the dark, and they didn’t appreciate it. Today, for instance, Deanna was walking into a press conference with no background research because she had no idea who was being considered. Normally in a situation like this, two to three names would have been floated so that the press could have background information gathered and questions ready.

  She walked into a corner coffee shop just a few blocks from the Hill, hoping to see some congressional staffers while she got her morning fix. She needed someone she could pump for information before the press conference, and right now, she was desperate enough to listen to anyone who thought they had something to add.

  As she stood in line to order her latte, she watched the television over the counter, tuned full-time to WNN, because in this part
of DC, news was the only thing anyone wanted to watch.

  Her friends often asked why she chose to work in the antiquated field of print journalism instead of broadcast cable news like WNN. The television reporters had the advantage always, being able to give information live, as it happened, any time day or night.

  But Deanna loved the old-school process of tracking down leads, conducting interviews, doing research, and writing in-depth articles on sometimes hidden aspects of the day’s most significant issues. She also loved to write, and while she understood that broadcast journalists had to write their talking points, it wasn’t the same as crafting a piece in print.

  She idly watched the ticker that rolled across the bottom of the screen, listing all the morning’s most current events. And then one sentence caught her eye, and her breath froze in her throat.

  “Prominent DC Attorney Teague Roberts severely injures armed robber.”

  Deanna’s heart throbbed, and she blinked rapidly at the screen, struggling to process the information. It could be another Teague Roberts, she told herself. Sure, another Teague Roberts who had also dreamed of becoming a top-notch attorney. She shook her head, trying to dispel the ache that seemed to lodge there in an instant.